


Letting Go

by learningthetrees



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: Dogs, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 08:40:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25347847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/learningthetrees/pseuds/learningthetrees
Summary: It didn’t matter how many dogs he rescued; Abigail was still gone, Hannibal had still betrayed him, he had still walked out on the FBI. His one small act was hardly enough to change anything.
Relationships: Molly Graham & Will Graham, Molly Graham/Will Graham
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Letting Go

“She looks lost.” Molly pointed out the mutt as they drove down the flat gravel lane towards the house. The dog, white except for a few dark speckles and a black semicircle around her left eye, was ambling along the side of the road, a red leash trailing from her collar. Will slowed the car to a stop behind the dog.

“Careful,” he warned, as if she needed any such advice. Like Will, Molly was familiar with dealing with strays. Their home was proof enough of that; the Graham brood included Will’s seven dogs as well as four that Molly had rescued over the years. Similar personalities had similar tendencies, and for Will and Molly, that tendency was to protect.

They climbed out of the car and approached the dog, Will several steps in front with his hand outstretched. He clicked his tongue and the mutt’s head snapped towards him, its mouth parted in what looked like a smile. Without hesitation, the dog trotted towards Will and proceeded to lick his palm. Will laughed.

“Does she have any tags?” Molly asked as Will ran a hand over the dog’s back. He leaned closer to examine the dog’s collar and found a small silver tag.

“‘Rosie,’” he read. He ruffled the dog’s fur. Despite some mud and brambles in her fur, she was well-groomed and appeared to be unhurt. Molly opened the back door and patted the seat, calling the dog’s name. Rosie’s ears perked up and she left Will’s side to hop up into the car. 

“Good girl,” Molly commended, scratching the dog’s head. “She needs cleaned up.”

“She’s probably hungry, too,” said Will, looking around. There were very few houses on this stretch of road, and no indication as to where she’d come from. People often dropped abandoned dogs on their land, but this one was different. This one was loved, wanted.

When they got back to the house, Rosie took some coaxing to enter the unfamiliar territory. Molly called her name from just beyond the threshold while Will offered her treats. Eventually, she crossed into the house, where she immediately sniffed out the rest of the dog’s bowls and helped herself. As she crunched noisily, Willy clomped down the stairs and entered the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom, can I—?” He spotted the new dog and sighed. “Seriously? Another one?”

“Shush,” Molly said. Will just smiled. His preoccupation with dogs had become something of a joke among the family, one Molly defended vehemently. 

Once Rosie had finished off one bowl of food, Will took her by the collar and led her gently outside. Several of the other dogs flocked to her, sniffing and wagging tails. Will shooed them off and filled a tub with water from the hose. Rosie looked at the bathtub apprehensively and even swatted at the surface of the water with a paw, looking back at Will uncertainly. He chuckled and lifted up the dog, placing her in the tub and running some water over her back. She whimpered once or twice as Will tried to remove the brambles from her fur, and he rubbed her head reassuringly. 

After toweling her dry, Will sat on the porch step and watched as Rosie raced off towards the other dogs. He heard yips and barks from the darkening yard. The porch door thumped shut behind him as Molly left the house and sat beside him, running a palm over his back.

“I see they’re getting along,” she said, nodding towards Rosie and a Jack Russell Terrier of Molly’s named Pepper as they toppled over each other in their pursuit. 

“She likes it here,” Will said simply. 

“Of course she does,” said Molly. “I know what you’re thinking.”

Will looked at her challengingly. “Do you?”

“You know she can’t stay.”

Will knew. He’d known from the moment he read the tag that this one wasn’t a neglected or abandoned stray; she had a family that took care of her and wanted her back. 

“I know why you want to keep her,” Molly continued, taking his hand that was resting on his knee and lacing her fingers through his. “It’s your way of making a difference. Saving something.”

“It doesn’t make any difference,” he said softly. It didn’t matter how many dogs he rescued; Abigail was still gone, Hannibal had still betrayed him, he had still walked out on the FBI. His one small act was hardly enough to change anything. 

“But it feels like it does,” said Molly. “Believe me, I understand that.” She looked down, her hair covering half her face, and Will knew she was thinking of her first husband. “But I think knowing when to let go makes a difference, too.”

Will lifted their connected hands, pressing a kiss to the back of Molly’s hand. From the yard came a high-pitched bark as Buster joined the chase. “At least she made some friends,” Will said with a thin smile.

When Rosie’s family arrived several days later, prompted by the signs he’d posted, Will watched a young girl throw her arms around the dog, who gave her a few huge, slobbery kisses. He slipped an arm around Molly’s waist and wondered if he should—if he could—start letting go of his past, rather than holding on.


End file.
